defiant to the end

Why spend time at home when there's a whole ass world to be conquered? To be discovered? To be shredded under his claws or to be sundered with his axe? Okay, listen, sometimes the answer is that he's been too into the whole destruction thing lately, and his shoulder hurts. Davey, instead, spends the day tracing the border. Learning it. Trying to figure out exactly where the boundary started and ended.

What's cool about that, though, is the fact that trouble can still find him. It's on his makeshift patrol that the boy finds the little gaggle of coyotes, glee coloring his expression as he stalks through the tall grasses of the Moor. Rushing the group, at least three of them starting to scatter, Davey swings his flail. It's all too good, okay?

"Davey"